


Nothing Happened Here

by Amarok (ButterflyGhost)



Series: Daddy's Friend [2]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pedophilia, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Quadruple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/Amarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Posted under the pseud Amarok, as an extra warning to proceed with caution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Happened Here

 

First time he did it by himself he was crying. It was dirty. He didn’t want to do it, but it was like when Daddy put in electric wiring and a generator. You turned a switch and the lights went on. Gerrard had flipped a switch, and Benton hated how that felt, but he didn’t know how to turn it off.

  
When Gerrard comes he splashes on Benton’s chest, or fills his mouth, or his bottom. Everything is wet and sticky and filthy, and Benton learns how not to cry.

  
When Benton comes there is nothing but a hot spike of burning; better and worse than pain. Everything is nothing for a moment, then he softens in his hand. When he is a man it will spurt. Gerrard tells him it will feel better then. ‘But don’t tell anyone,’ Gerrard says. ‘Our secret,’ Gerrard says.

  
Now Benton doesn’t remember why he hates doing it so much. He does it anyway. He tries to put it off forever, days and weeks and months on end – but he always falls back into it, harder every time.

  
If he has to do it, he prefers to do it by himself. When he was younger there were times he was so desperate he gave himself to anyone willing. He hopes he has finally developed enough discipline to avoid his worst excesses.

  
Tonight he does it alone on his cot, thinking of Ray. He thinks, ‘I can’t tell Ray I think of him like this.’ Then he can’t think because he’s thinking –

  
_– oh God – what if I took Ray in my hand or mouth and Ray doesn’t hate me for it? What if he’s like me, helpless to it, a slave to it? What if his head falls back, exposing his throat? What if I saw the pulse in the long cord there, the flutter of breath beneath the Adam’s apple? If I could kiss him, nip him, string violet bruises along the clean line of clavicle? Taste oh suck, yes – Ray’s skin and groin – oh, groan and capture the sharp salt sting of it, tang and touch and scent and Ray comes_ _–_

  
Benton’s hand quickens toward Ray’s imagined orgasm. He seizes, splashes sticky across his chest. Nausea rises, as it always does, and he covers his eyes with his fists.

  
When his breathing eases he wipes himself. This never happened. Nothing happened at all.


End file.
